Fortune
by Ryah Ignis
Summary: The Doctor runs into a fortune-teller in 1936. Somehow, she knows exactly what he's been through.


Fortune

He entered the tent, ducking his head to avoid the dried herbs hanging over the doorway. The tiny set of bells to his left tinkled merrily, but he ignored them. Striding forward the best he could with his head tilted so that he didn't scrape the top, he approached the old woman sitting at the circular table dominating the room.

"Come to have your fortune read?" she asked, voice barely more than a whisper but somehow audible from a few feet away.

"I'd just like to ask some questions," he began, but she cut him off.

"An old woman has to earn a living," she said.

He dropped three shillings on to the table with a clatter as he took a seat. She pocketed the coins with a grateful nod in his direction.

"Do you have a name?"

"I'm the Doctor."

If she was confused by the title, she didn't show it.

"May I?" she asked, gesturing to his hand.

The Doctor sighed and allowed her to take his hand. She flipped it over and moved one gnarled finger over the lifeline.

"Long-lived," she murmured.

He smirked. "You have no idea.

Instead of looking at his hand again, she met his eyes with the cool wisdom that only age could give. Surprised by the intensity of her gaze, he kept looking.

"You're guilty," she observed. "I can't even begin to imagine what for, but you carry it on your shoulders every day. It weighs you down with every step you take."

He jerked his hand free of her tight grip, but she kept talking.

"You've seen death you should have been able to prevent but you didn't."

The Doctor stood up, nearly striking his head on the soft top of the tent, his fingers involuntarily clenching into fists.

"How did you know that?"

"Madame Kinheart knows all," she said. Then, all trappings gone from her voice, she continued. "I was a nurse in the Great War. I was a spinster nearing fifty without a husband or children. I lived on my father's inheritance. I'd never done anything with my life. When they came knocking, asking for nurses, I signed up. I knew nothing about medicine, but some of the soldiers only needed a friend, someone to talk to about the atrocities they'd seen. For some, it wasn't what they'd seen but what they'd done. I spoke to them all, Doctor. I see them reflected in your eyes. You are the same."

She cleared her throat and ducked beneath the table. The Doctor lowered himself uneasily into the seat again. What if Madame Kinheart was the reason the TARDIS had brought him here? She popped back up, holding a deck of cards.

"Pick the one that feels right," she said, holding out around eighteen of them.

He slid his fingers over the tops of the cards, moving up and down until he found one that he liked. He wasn't sure if it felt 'right' but what did the old woman know?

"And another." she prompted him, until he had nine. "It seems the right number for you."

He smiled again, but he was on the edge of his seat, ready to run at a moment's notice.

Her fingers ghosted over the cards that he'd chosen. She selected one at random. Despite himself, he leaned forwards.

"Nine of diamonds," she said. "You are a traveler."

He nodded, and she returned to the cards.

"Eight of hearts. You will receive an unexpected gift from the universe."

The Doctor snorted. The universe hadn't been giving him many gifts lately. It seemed fond of taking things away from him.

"Six of hearts. You will meet someone to take care of you."

He barely held in another snort. He spent his entire life taking care of other people.

"This person will-Jack of hearts-be a fair-haired, young admirer. The two of hearts and the five of clubs both point this to being a warm and happy friendship. According to the Ace of spades, you will meet a youth in uniform who brings bad news."

She frowned as she flipped over the next to last card. He moved a bit closer.

"Ace of spades," she said softly, her eyes fixed on the table rather than him. "It brings misfortune, and a difficult ending. Sometimes death."

She looked surprised that he didn't seem very affected by this grim pronouncement.

"But this is good news. This difficult ending will lead to a change for the better."

They sat in silence for a moment, her fingers skimming the glossy surface of the cards. He tapped the table in a rhythm she wouldn't recognize.

"Ask your question," she said.

"Have you seen anything strange around here recently?"

"Just the blue box that appeared this afternoon."

"You noticed?" he asked, surprised.

It was rare that a human would notice such a thing. Usually they just moved on. He cleared his throat.

"Thank you," he said, getting up.

"Doctor?" asked the old woman. "There was only one way that the soldiers I knew recovered. They found someone that cared for them that could help them through it. Find someone like that."

"Right," he said.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and strode out of the room into the fresh air. The rest of the circus was packing up to move on. He clambered into the TARDIS and shut the door.

"Why here?" he asked the ceiling.

He'd been going where the TARDIS took him, usually into the heart of trouble all over the universe. He couldn't figure out for the life of him why it had brought him here. There were no disturbances, nothing out of place and the people saw nothing wrong.

So, he started up the TARDIS again, as always, ready for the next great adventure. He smiled at the humming noise. Off he went, across the universe, straight to 2005.

**Obviously, the Doctor is about to run into Rose. Every one of the fortune-teller's cards came true.**

**The youth in uniform is Jack, who is swearing e when they meet. If you need another fortune explained, let me know in a review.**

**This took place in about 1936.**


End file.
